Dangerous Game
by BoredGOTH
Summary: Draco took a few steps forward until his eyes were in level with Hermione's and he could hear her shallow breathing. 'Spare me, Granger', he sneered, raising both his eyebrows at the same time. 'Heard you were the new Gryffindor seeker.' DHr.


**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and all other related items here are JK Rowling's.

**Year: **Four (no Tri-Wizard Tournament)

**Chapter One: The Ten-Feet Drop**

_Ten feet._

_That was exactly how high up he was._

_And that was also _exactly_ how high he fell from. _Ouch…

The day was cloudy and the sky was dark and dreary. It was the second to the last Quidditch Match before the final tournament and a _storm_ was brewing. Apparently, Trelawney wasn't able to _foretell_ this and so everyone went on with the game. And now, all the people are wet.

The rain started halfway through the match and just got stronger by each passing minute. Thunder and lightning clashed as the players zoomed around in their brooms, getting drenched (counting on the fact that no one knew it was going to rain and that nobody prepared any raincoats).

Gryffindor was leading from Ravenclaw by ten points and the golden snitch was still nowhere to be found. Harry Potter, the Gryffindor seeker, circled around the pitch, thinking that perhaps he was going blind.

A few more minutes passed as Harry turned his head here and there, looking for the snitch. All of a sudden, a blurry streak of gold passed by him. Even though it was raining and he couldn't see clearly, Harry had enough sense to tell that _that_ was what he was looking for. Quickly, like his life depended on it, he made a sharp left turn and dashed after the golden snitch.

From far behind, he could hear the shallow breaths of Ravenclaw's seeker. Harry sped up and stretched his hand out. The snitch, though, instead of going on a straight direction, went upward. Harry followed it and was soon ten feet above the ground. He looked down for a split second and then went back to eyeing the golden ball.

Ravenclaw's seeker was now beside him, stretching his arm out as well. Thunder boomed and the rain fell harder, making Harry's glasses mistier and blurring his sight. Unable to see the snitch any longer, he took back his hand and wiped the outer screen of his glasses.

Harry felt the opposing seeker's air pass by him. With a sharp kick at his Firebolt's side, he zoomed off to where he could see blue robes before him. He stretched his hand out as soon as he was side by side with Ravenclaw's seeker.

After that, everything became blurry. Harry could hear the Gryffindor side of the pitch shouting his name, thought not in a chanting way. Then, when he spun around, he could have sworn a bludger was heading his way. Next moment, counting on the fact that he had not acted quickly, Harry was knocked off his broom – there was a sharp, painful feeling near his left arm.

Ten feet, that's what it was.

Harry fell off his broom ten feet above and landed on his left side. A slight cracking sound came from his left arm – the one arm that was hit by the bludger. Harry moaned, feeling as if the entire left of his body was broken. A series of gasps issued from the crowd in the stands and footsteps could be heard descending the stairs.

Five feet above hung Harry's Firebolt, untouched and undamaged. In his right hand, he felt something small and it was moving. But since his body was aching, he didn't even _bother_ thinking about it.

As Harry lay on the Quidditch pitch ground, he saw a couple of worried Gryffindor students along with the entire teaching staff heading towards him. Then his eyes closed and everything went black.

OoooHARRYPOTTERRONWEASLEYHERMIONEGRANGERDRACOMALFOYoooO

Hermione Granger sat (a/n: think Hermione in PoA), waiting impatiently, on a wooden stool beside her friend, Harry Potter's bed in the Hospital Wing. She twiddled with her thumbs numerous times, looking out the dark stormy sky once in a while. Next to Hermione stood Ron Weasley, another of Harry's best friends and, all around Harry's bed, was the entire Gryffindor class, looking as concerned as ever.

Seconds later, Harry began to stir. Hermione and Ron quickly turned to him. Harry's eyes fluttered open and Ron handed him his glasses, which were mended with a single mention of _Occulus Reparo_ by Hermione.

"Thanks," Harry said, blinking his eyes. Ginny neared him. "Are you all right?" she inquired. As soon as Ginny had asked him that, Harry got flooded with even more questions from the others.

"Blimey, that must have been awful, wasn't it, Harry?"

"That rain was complete rubbish, wasn't it, mate?"

"How do broken bones feel?"

Harry sat up slowly and held his hand up to silence the others. Upon doing that, he held it back down because his body hurt so much. He bit his lip in pain. Hermione handed him a fluffy white pillow from the vacant bed on her right.

Harry nodded in thanks. "Did we win?" he asked, clearing his throat. At this, everyone started telling him about how the rain was so hard, how the opposing beaters lost control of the bludger and all others. However, there was no mention of Gryffindor winning.

"Wait!" Harry stopped them all, this time remembering not to hold his hand up – especially his _left_ one. "You're telling me about what happened _throughout_ the game! I'm asking if we won!" Everyone fell silent. Seconds later, Fred and George spoke.

"Oh, blimey, yeah!" Fred began.

"You caught the snitch at the last moment!" George continued.

"When you fell off your broom…"

"…It was in your hand the whole time!" Then they said together, "It was bloody brilliant!" Harry blinked. A smile slowly formed on his lips. Everyone then rejoiced upon remembering that they _had_ won. The Gryffindors were all very happy indeed until Seamus Finnigan said-

"What about our next match with Slytherin?" The whole lot around Harry's bed looked at Seamus, their red and gold painted faces slowly dropping. It was evident that nobody really thought about the matter. Now that Harry had broken bones and had to stay in the Hospital Wing for a long time, the Gryffindor team's position for seeker was vacant.

All of them looked at each other for a long period of time. Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, stepped forward. "Well… who wants to replace Harry as a seeker?" he asked, wringing the handle of his broom. "_Temporarily_, of course." Keeping in mind what had just happened to Harry, everyone stepped backward. Everyone that is, except Ron Weasley.

"I'd like a shot," he volunteered. His ears were turning bright pink again.

All the people present around Harry's bed ogled at Ron – especially Wood – then to Harry, who shrugged _slowly_ so as not to feel his body hurting again. "Fine by me," he said. "My Firebolt's outside. You try it, Ron."

Minutes later, Ron and the others were outside, checking Harry's Firebolt. Only Hermione was left behind to look after Harry.

Outside, the foul weather had _quite_ disappeared. The sky was still a light gray but one could see a faint white glow behind the mountains near the Great Lake. The grounds and the trees were still a bit wet from the rain and the cemented floors still had little puddles. The huge clock showed 4:30 as the time.

Ron took the broomstick with shaky, excited hands and swiftly climbed on top of it. Everyone, including himself, cheered as it floated two feet above the ground. They soon stopped upon seeing that Ron and the Firebolt stayed that way – a mere two feet.

Ron angrily wrinkled his nose.

"OY!" he cried, kicking the sides of the broom with his feet, hoping that it would let the broom kick off. Unfortunately, nothing happened. "Hey, move you!" Neville began chuckling silently and all the others watched in amusement. Wood, though, scratched his head. "Sorry to say this," he started, "but it's not responding to yeh." Ron gritted his teeth and felt like breaking the bloody Firebolt in half.

It was about ten minutes later that Ron decided to just give up on it. For the past few minutes, the highest the broom's reached was approximately three feet and nothing more.

Everyone got back to the Hospital Wing and talked to Harry about the matter. For minutes and minutes, the Gryffindors argued on about who should replace Harry as a seeker. It seemed that Ginny Weasley could not join; counting on the fact that she was replacing Katie Bell, who had double detention from Snape and a recent one from Moody.

Dean Thomas still had his Remedial Lessons and poor Seamus Finnigan was in fact too short and his arms would lack too much length to even reach for a flying snitch. Neville Longbottom had mysteriously disappeared when the others mentioned his name to try out for seeker.

Harry looked at the faces all around his bed. "Well… who else do we know who could be seeker?" he asked. Everyone turned their heads around and a buzz arose in the crowd once more. Young Colin Creevey with his camera squeezed himself out amongst all the tall people. "What about her?" he asked. Everyone turned to the direction he was pointing.

There, Hermione Granger stood, looking as surprised as ever. Her brown eyes were almost as wide open as her mouth. She looked at Harry. "Surely you're not considering this!" she said. She was oblivious to the fact that she was squeezing Harry's hands real tight and Harry, who had his mouth wide open, was squirming in pain. He calmed down as soon as Hermione let go.

"You've all seen how I play!" she panicked, obviously not wanting this. "Let alone _fly_!" The Gryffindors blinked. Hermione rolled her eyes and stared at them. They stared back. Hermione grunted and folded her arms.

"NO," she told them all. "No, I will _not_. I will _never_ play in Quidditch."

Harry and Ron gave her the big-puppy-eyed look. Hermione puffed and remained still with her arms folded. She shook her head, her brown bangs shaking along with her bushy hair.

Ron patted her back. "C'mon, 'Mione," he said, maintaining the pout. "Do us all a favor. It'll be a fun experience." Hermione shrugged his hand off. She shook her head once more and make the mistake of looking at Harry. He gazed at her from his glasses, his eyes big and shining.

"Oh, _do_ stop!" Hermione cried, raising her arms up for emphasis. "I've done you all lots of favors in the past few years!" She ruffled the sides of her black robes, finding nothing to do next. She looked up and found all of Godric Gryffindor's students staring at her with wide, pleading eyes.

Hermione shook with fury and jammed her fist on Harry's bedside table. "Ooh!!! All right, all right! I'll try the broom," she gritted her teeth as she began marching out the Hospital Wing, the others following behind her. "But I swear, just like Ronald's, it _won't_ work."

Hermione Granger took the handle of the broom and hoisted herself onto it. As soon as she did, the broom lifted her off a few feet and then zoomed around in the courtyard. Hermione could hear the crowd below cheer for her as they got farther and farther away and she herself got higher.

"Merlin's Beard!" How do you steer this thing??"

Hermione panicked and, considering that her adrenaline was starting to boot up, she took a sharp turn downward with all the strength she could muster. The broom didn't even hesitate to bring her back down. It was like it had a mind of its own and that "mind" knew her.

The fourteen-year-old smoothly mounted off the broom with her mouth open. However, her fingers, arms, legs and shoulders were all shaking from the over-exposure. Wood took the broom, speechless.

Ron's red hair looked like it stuck out even more than it already did. "Blimey, Hermione! Boy, can you fly!" he congratulated her. Hermione was too stunned to even speak.

OoooHARRYPOTTERRONWEASLEYHERMIONEGRANGERDRACOMALFOYoooO

"So that's settled then," Harry Potter announced. "Hermione's going to be our temporary seeker." He wasn't entirely _happy_ with his decision but he felt like it was a _good_ choice. He would have much preferred Ron Weasley but the Firebolt, for some strange reason, wouldn't respond to him.

"Make sure you practice a lot, okay?" Ginny told Hermione while patting her back. "From what I've seen, you need to polish up that steering and direction. And you should also refrain from panicking." Hermione felt like crying. She couldn't do this. There was far too much pressure. _They_ were pressuring her.

"When you're in the game," Fred started to say. "There's no turning back," George continued. "The fate of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team is in your hands," they said together. It was, of course, the worst of all. Hermione couldn't hold _the fate of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team_ in her hands! It was all too much!

She wondered how she could ever survive this.

As if it were all on cue, a couple of Slytherins, the ones the Gryffindors _least_ wanted to see, entered the Hospital Wing. Zabini Blaise, Pansy Parkinson, Gregory Goyle and the worst; Draco Malfoy.

"Ah, _famous_ Harry Potter," Draco spat out. "Where is he now?" He looked at all his other companions, his lazy gray eyes shining with delight. Zabini and the others snickered. Draco turned back to the Gryffindors. "Here, in the Hospital Wing, lying weak and feeble because of his _poor_, _old_, _broken_ _bones_." He said those last few words with sheer spite. His cronies all laughed beside him.

Ron could feel his face reddening but somehow, he couldn't think of a meaner retort to throw back at Draco. Hermione stood still, almost stiffening.

"That was one great fall back there, Potty," Draco said, his pale, pointed face revealing a smirk. His blond hair was pulled back with probably a barrel of hair gel and looked like it was gleaming in the light; but it was not. "Perhaps the best. It could probably even make its way in the Great Hall of Quidditch Bloopers." His companions roared with laughter.

This time, Hermione stepped forward. "If you're here merely to make fun of Harry, then I suggest you leave now, _Malfoy_," she told him, narrowing her brown eyes. Draco's widened in such a way that made him look like he just remembered something.

"OH. I almost forgot," he declared, folding his arms. "We're actually _here_ to visit our dear friend, Crabbe. Poor chap's been having a stomachache for days. Quite silly, really, but what can you expect from a fat bloke like him?"

Hermione wrinkled her forehead. "You're a right-fowl git, aren't you, Malfoy?" she started, putting her hands on her hips. Everyone watched as she took on the Slytherin boy without any hesitation. "How could you talk about your friend like that? _And_ behind his back? Shame on you, ferret!" She grinned at that.

As she said this, Draco stopped himself short and his smug look flickered. He took a few steps forward until his eyes were in level with Hermione's and he could hear her shallow breathing. She smelled of strawberry for some reason.

"Spare me, _Granger_," he sneered, raising both his eyebrows at the same time. "Heard you were the new Gryffindor seeker." He took a moment to glare at her and then turned to the other Gryffindor students.

"Good luck on our next match," he said with a hint of pride. "You're going to need it." He walked away without another word, his friends laughing behind him.

Hermione puffed and snorted back at him. It seemed like Draco was fond of hitting her nerves – especially to the point where it annoyed her the most.

Hermione spun around at the Gryffindors who were all staring blankly at her, some even blinking. "Well, then, if that's the way they'll be," she began to say, putting her hands on her hips once more, "then let the games begin."

**A/n: **NYAHA. Please review. Thanks, guys and don't worry – MORE Draco in the next chapters.


End file.
